


Amnesia

by DigiArt_Studios



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Cliche, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-08 07:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14100759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigiArt_Studios/pseuds/DigiArt_Studios
Summary: Tord awakens to find himself in what seems to be a hospital room, but he has no memory of who he is.





	1. One: Another Day, Another Lost Memory

**Author's Note:**

> I know lots of people did the Tord-Amnesia thing, but I wanted to do it too. Also, this is kinda a way to test speaking Norweigan since I've started learning it. Please feel free to critique!

He kept his eyes shut tight. No matter no much he shut them, the left side of his face was reddish black color while the right side was completely black. His whole body felt hot for some reason, like he was in a desert. No not hot, in pain. The pain mainly came from his right arm and right side of face. He felt oddly tired. He just wanted to keep his eyes close, change his position a bit, and go back to sleep.

He tried to turn on his side, but pain shot throughout his whole body causing him to immeadiatly groan in pain and go back on his back. After that sudden burst of pain, he didn't feel much like sleeping. He sighed and slowly opened his eyes. They immeadiatly got blinded by light, so he shut them. He exhaled a little and slowly squinted his eyes open. Light blinded him again. He winced and slightly turned his head to the left, it stung a bit, but he didn't really care.

His eyes started to adapt to the bright lights and he could make out some lights and white ceiling and a little bit of some white walls. That's all he could see. He tried to sit up again. He made it about 3 inches up, and stayed up for 5 seconds. He could see a wooden door across from the bed he was laying on, a counter with some medical stuff scattered on it, a medical cabinet above it, an IV cord attached to his left arm and into an IV pump, and a second wooden door to the left wall. His body started to shake and he crashed back down onto the bed. He groaned in pain.

He stared back up at the ceiling again. Before he could really think he could hear voices. Two voices. They were muffled and sounded like they were coming from behind the door across the room from him. He gently lifted his head, causing his neck to tell him to put it down on the pillow, but he didn't care. He was curious to see who would come from the door. He started as the voices became louder. He watched the silver doorknob twist and the wooden door push open. Two men walked in.

 _"Hva? (What)"_  He thought. Confusion filled his body faster than pain as the two odd looking men walked in. For starters, they both had blue and red uniforms (that were slightly different) with name tags. The first man, had extremely large eyebrows that could hide a tank in, gauze covering his right eye, a crumbled up cigarette in his mouth, and his nametag was upside down and was too far to read. He had an expression of shock when his good eye layed on him. The second man had a really strange haircut and normal eyebrows. That was about all. He had an expression as shock as well.

The shock on their faces turned to happiness, and they rushed over to him. He flinched a bit, not knowing who they were. They started shouting random things, but were speaking to loud and fast for him to understand.

"Hvem er dere? (Who are you?)" They both shut up and looked at eachother. Confusion, worry, and fear were seen in their eyes.

"Hvem, er jeg? (Who am I)" He muttered, mainly talking to himself. He didn't even notice until now that he had no memories of his past self. He squinted to read their nametags. 'Paul' on the upside-down one, and 'Patryk' on the other one. Paul, AKA Big Eyebrows, started to sweat a bit and nervously laughed. He was rewarded with a worried look from Patryk, AKA Weird Haircut.

"That's a good joke, Red Leader," Big Eyebrows laughed nervously, making him uncomfortable. _'Oh, they speak English.'_  He thought. Wait, did he call him Re-

"Paul," Weird Haircut said. Big Eyebrows continued to laugh.

 _"Paul,"_  Weird Haircut repeated, this time in a more menacing tone. Big Eye- er. . . Paul shut up. He looked at them confused.

"Red Leader," Weird Haircut said, putting his hands on the side of the bed. He turned his head slightly to look at Weird Haircut, ignoring the requests of his nervous system to stop. * _'So my title here is Red Leader. . . Why? What's my actual name?'_ * Red Leader thought. "Did you really forget?" Weird Haircut said, looking Red Leader dead in the eyes.

"Ja, um. . . Yes," Red Leader replied, switching from Norweigan to English in the middle of saying "Yes." Weird Haircut and Paul looked at eachother, thinking and it looked like they were having a telepathic conversation. Paul sighed and looked back at Red Leader. Weird Haircut started to speak.

"Okay. First things first: You're in an army base right now. An army base that's in _America_  so you speak _English_. This is the Red Army, and you, The Red Leader, lead everybody." Patryk explained.

"Hm," Red Leader said, showing a sign that he was listening and that he was also processing everything.

"I am Patryck, and this is Paul," Patryk said, pointing to Paul. "We are your pilots-"

"Why do I need pilots? I'm a general, not a fucking prim and proper rich snob," Red Leader interrupted.

"Because you're wanted," Paul interrupted. You could see the annoyance and frustration boiling in Patryk's eyes from getting interrupted. Red Leader was shocked. "What? What did I even do?!" He asked.

"You've killed tons of people. The goal in this army is to rule the world," Patryk said. ' _Why should we rule the world? That's a stupid goal. . .'_  Red Leader thought to himself. "Why am I in here? What happened to me?" He blurted out. Paul and Patryck looked at eachother, wondering if they should tell him. Paul was the one to speak up.

"You tried to use one of your giant robots to take over the earth. It was a mission we gave you because you're the strongest and smartest out of us. But, your robot kind of took a harpoon and exploded. . . With you in it," Paul said. Tord was dumbfounded.

"And. . ." Patryk was about to continue, but sighed instead. "Come on. Try and stand up," he said. Red Leader tried to sit up, and this time succeeded! He slowly and gingerly swung his legs off the bed and hopped off. He started to fall over like a tree when it cuts down by a lumberjack. Paul panicked and grabbed his arm. . . His right arm. Intense pain shot throughout his arm and turned to look at it for the first time. It was covered in gauze and it had bloody splotches on it. He hissed in pain armed pulled away from Paul, starting to shake a bit.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Paul repeatedly said.

"I'll walk on my own," Red Leader quietly said, shakily taking step after step as he followed Patryk to the door on the left side of the room. Patryk opened the door for Red Leader and it was a bathroom. Red Leader limped to the middle of the bathroom, looking at Patryk and Paul. "Now what"? He asked, raising a brow.

Paul pointed behind Red Leader, to a mirror. With a few wobbly steps, Red Leader did a 180 and was facing the mirror. He did a silent gasp. His eye shot open with fear and a bit of disgust.

"H-Hva?" He said, starting to shake.

The right side of his face wasn't covered in gauze. It wrapped around his whole head. There was also small and faint splotches of blood here and there on his face, but the top of his head was a whole different story. The gauze was soaked in crimson blood, the center of the top of his head was almost black.

"Yeah. . . We turn around for one minute to pick up some more gauze and a peice of metal from the explosion that shot up way into the air fell down and got stuck right in your head. We could hear your scream and turned around to find you on the ground, passed out with the metal sticking out of your head, blood pouring out from it. It's a miracle you survived," Patryk said.

Red Leader's stomach began to tie into knots. His stomach started to disagree with him and his legs became as weak as noodles as he collapsed to his knees, gagging. He had his good hand on his bad arm.

"RED LEADER!" Paul and Patryk shouted, getting on their knees to help him. Red Leader gagged until everything became a blur. He could feel himself vomit over and over again. He could hear Paul and Patryk shouting, but it was so muffled. His vision kept making jumps from going perfectly to fine to just a big blur. All he could hear was the ringing in his ears. Then his vision started to fade to black as he fell backwards. The last thing he could hear was Paul and Patryk shouting something.

"TORD!" 


	2. Chapter 2: A Bad Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you like this!

"Red Leader? Red leader?"

Red Leader could hear someone calling his name. They lightly shook him like how a mother rocks a cradle with a baby in it. He kept his eyes shut and wormed deeper into his covers. "Red Leader. Tord!" It sounded like Patryk. Wait, did he say "Tord"? What kind of word was that? Was it a name?

"Tord! Tord!" Now Paul was shouting the name, and the pilot who was shaking him was shaking him faster. Was it Red Leader's name? Was it his actual name? Well, he didn't care. He just wanted to sleep. "Come on, you have to get up," Patryk said in a calming and soothing voice.

"Nei, (no)" Tord sleepily muttered, keeping his eyes shut and turning on his side in a quick motion, ripping the pilot's hands off of his side. He snuggled in deeper in the sheets and got comfy. He felt a smile go onto his face. "Tord," Patryk repeated, shaking him harder.

"Nei," Tord muttered again, barely letting the word pass his lips as the warm embrace of the blankets hugged him and refused to let go. Paul sighed in annoyance.

"You're almost recovered," Paul said. Tord turned to Paul and slowly opened his eyes. He had to squint because of the sudden bright light. "Hva?" Tord asked. Paul sighed again. "Your face is fully healed and your arm and head is almost completely healed. We just don't know how to fix your amnesia," Paul said, while Patryk nodded.

Tord perked up a bit. He then just realized that he felt no pain. He did have a small headache, but that was it. He gulped and looked at his right arm. It had a reddened tint to it and some stitches, but that was it. He moved it around. It didn't even hurt! He felt his face. He could feel a scar and an eyepatch. Then he moved on to feeling the top of his head, it stung when he grazed the top of it with the tip of his finger.

He recoiled his finger, because it almost immeadiatly burned his head. He hissed a bit and looked at Paul and Patryk. "I said it was almost healed," Paul said. "Do you want to try and see again?" Patryk asked. Tord's expression turned to fear in a blink of an eye. He could remember that awful feeling in his gut when he saw himself. He gently grabbed his arm and cradled it subconsciously. He whimpered a bit like a small puppy. Paul and Patryk looked at eachother again. They looked in his eyes and saw something similar to a scared dog. Then Tord exhaled and they saw that cold, dead, determined stare they knew from the old Tord. The Red Leader.

"Ja. (Yes)"

Patryk nodded and started walking to the door on the left with Paul following close behind. Tord hopped off of the bed and cradled his arm again. He nervously and timidly walked to the bathroom. Patryk opened the door and they all stepped in. Tord took a deep breath before he looked in the mirror. His stomach didn't twist. His heart didn't drop. He wasn't horrified. The right side of his face was reddish and had some cuts in it, and an eyepatch was over it.

Silently, he bowed his head down a few inches so she could see his head. He gently swept his two giant horns of hair down with his hand and through the hair, he could see a large gash that was covered by a disgusting scab and dried blood along it. His stomach argued with him a bit, but he didn't care.

He then lifted his head back up and he saw his face in the mirror. He lightly pressed against his eye patch. He wanted to know what was under it. He started to lift it and Paul immeadiatly stopped him. "Boss, I'm not really sure you should lift that," he warned. Tord looked at him with confusion. "Why not?" He asked. "It's a little. . . Bad," Patryk interrupted. Paul nodded in agreement.

"Get ready to catch me," Tord grinned. Paul sighed and he put out his arms.

Tord turned back to the mirror. He exhaled and lifted it up. Dried blood surrounded his right eye and the eye was nothing but a socket. Tord gasped and fell into Paul's hands. "You alright there, Boss?" Paul asked. Tord caught his breath. "Ja, ja, yeah," Tord repetivaly said. Paul and Patryk took a sigh of relief. "Thank God," Patryk said with a soft smile. He wiped away little bit of nervous sweat with the back of his hand.

Tord flicked his eye patch down. He stood up and looked at them. "What. . . Happened?" He timidly asked, grazing the eyepatch with the tip of his finger.

"Well when the harpoon got into the robot. . . It went through the cockpit through the glass and. . . The end of the spear drove into your eye," Paul explained, cringing as he could remember Tord's pained scream.

_'Paul and Patryk immeadiatly pulled up to the cliff where they had spotted the explosion. They could Tord screaming in agony. Patryk grabbed some gauze, but they couldn't see what was wrong. He was facing away from them. He was on his knees and screaming and swearing in Norweigan. Patryk picked up the gauze. They ran to him. Neither of them noticed the metal peice falling in the air and it struck him in the head like a meteor. The screaming silenced and when they got their they could see his unconscious body. He was in a puddle of his own blood and small parts of his robot were littered around it. A harpoon was driven through his eye and the flesh on his right arm and face was gone. The metal was stuck in his head.'_

Paul shivered. He didn't want to see anything like that _ever_  again. "Do you remember how to shoot a gun?" Paul asked, quickly changing the subject. Tord looked down, he was thinking. "Yeah," he said. Paul let out a sigh of releif. "Come on, let's go to the training grounds."

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

Tord looked around. He was in a black void. Nothing was around him, above him, or underneath him. Just darkness. He then realized something. His arm was perfectly fine. He felt his face and head. Everything was fine! He chirped a happy smile. Then from behind him, he could hear a creak. Like one from when a person opens a door in a horror movie. He turned around. 4 doors. The first one was green, the second was purple, the third was blue, and the last one was red.

It felt like he had no control of his body as he walked over to the green door. He opened it. There was a man in a green hoodie. At first the man looked happy and had a great smile on his face, but then the expression turned cold. The man turned around and slammed the door, which caused Tord to jump back. Then the door collapsed into small, green smithereens.

He went to the purple door and opened it. A man in a purple hoodie, with a green overcoat was at the door. He had a cold expression on his face, similar to the man's in the green door. The man lightly reached to his own eye and touched it, before he hissed and slammed the door. This door collapsed as well. With still no control, Tord walked to the blue door and opened it.

Another man. He had a blue hoodie and no eyes. The empty eye sockets creeped Tord out more than the silence that burned in this void. The eyeless man's face had turned to one of pure disgust and hatred. Tord held up his hands to protect himself, just in case the man tried to hurt him. Then he noticed his right hand was completely rid of flesh and was bleeding heavily. Tord started to hyperventilate. His breath kept catching in his throat and he could hardly breathe. Then pain.

Intense pain shot through his eye and he noticed something. The eyeless man was holding a bar in his hand. The bar led close to Tord's eye. . . Wait. Not close. In his eye. It was a harpoon. The man stabbed a harpoon in his eye. The man let go of the harpoon, muttered something, then walked to the door and slammed it shut. It collapsed as well. The door collapsed just like Tord had as he fell to his knees, gasping and gagging. He turned towards the red door. He shook as he looked at it.

The door creaked open and it led into another void. Sounds could be heard. Sounds of screaming, protesting, crying, sobbing, banging, and finally a gunshot. Then a thud and more sobs. The door closed. Tord started to fall. He didn't know what the was falling into. He just fell. And then there was a loud crack.

\-------

Tord jolted awake in cold sweat. He was gasping and struggling to breathe. He had a warm stream  
of tears running down his cheek. He looked around and saw that he was in the hospital room. He sighed and snuggled into the blankets. He didn't feel tired. He just stared at the wall.


End file.
